Do Not Cross the Tracks

The Instruction

There are many rules in my village; the cardinal rule is: do not cross the tracks. The other rules are introduced in stages, according to our capabilities and development; but the cardinal rule is given to us at birth. As a toddler I was instructed not to play with my dad’s fishing pole; as a teenager I was instructed to hunt in a group. I’ve received many instructions throughout my life, but the cardinal rule was given before them all. Before I knew how to walk, I was told the limits to my walking.

When I was a child, our village was a huge world filled with giants and adventures; but as I grew older and my stature dwarfed the giants’, my world seemed smaller and void of excitement. I was content with the village being my playground when I was a child; but as a man, I want to conquer. I’ve broken other rules without much consequence; I’ve hunted alone and only received a scar as punishment.

I suspect the rule about crossing the tracks is much like the others: an attempt to control what was meant to be free, to control me – a way of governing when and how I act. But I want more; I will not be controlled, so tonight I will venture across the tracks.

The Watcher

I wish you’d come here in the day. You would’ve seen the beauty of the city that lies beyond the tracks. Wait till morning, so you may see that I have not tried to withhold the truth from you. If you see with your eyes that I haven’t lied, you will know that the darker parts of my story are also true.

Oh, you think I was given my post by the villagers to keep you from your adventure? I assumed the role of watcher when I lost my son due to his desire to conquer. I’d sensed that he was getting restless, as if our village had become clothes that he’d outgrown – clothes he’d rather walk naked than wear.

I repeated the warning daily, but he didn’t take heed. He left in secret one night, just as you’re trying to do now. He never returned, and I suspect you won’t either. I have been here many years; I have seen many young men cross these tracks, but they all seem to have forgotten the road home. A city of opulence must be a joy to live in, but I wonder why they have never returned to share their wealth with family and friends. I’d planned my own journey across the tracks, but when I came here, and turned to bid our village farewell, I finally saw what was veiled by my disappointment. My son is dead.

He was not always obedient, but he was always loving. He’d eat only after I’d eaten, and always took care to make sure that I was comfortable. I’m getting older; my comfort would be of increasing concern to my son, if he was alive. I can only offer you warning, but the decision to return to the village or cross the tracks is yours to make.

The Consequence

That old man tried to keep me from my destiny, but I will not be deterred. The air felt different the moment I stepped off the track – a bit heavier – but that won’t dissuade me either. The light the moon reflects unto the buildings lets me know that the old man wasn’t lying about the village’s beauty. The buildings are tall and majestic; our huts would be lost in their shadows.

The beauty of the village hasn’t dimmed, but my appreciation for it is waning, because there are things lurking in the shadows. I didn’t notice at first, but I do now; whenever I move, there’s movement within the darkness. I’m terrified, but if I return to the tracks, what becomes of my conquest? I must press on; maybe the brightness of day will quiet my fright.

I rush to one of the buildings to knock on the door; I know it’s rude to visit anyone at this hour, but I want to get away from whatever is stalking me in the dark – it’s getting closer. I knock, but my hand on the door doesn’t produce a sound; the door isn’t solid, my hand simply passes through the air. I try another door – same outcome. I can’t seem to touch whatever I see; my experience in this village is limited to sight.

Something is woefully unnatural about this place. What do I do? Do I sleep and restart my escapade at daylight, or do I return to the void of my village? There is shuffling all around me, and there is a smell! What’s that smell? Did someone hunt and kill and leave their meat out to rot? The air has gotten heavier…colder too. I’m terrified to turn around; whatever was lurking in the shadows is now behind me – close enough to touch me. I can’t return to my dull village; I know the old man was telling the truth.